Test of Valor
by Rosethorn
Summary: Sometimes life gives you these challenges, and sometimes you can blame Morgan. Dresdletverse.


I was late. Again.

That's always how it starts, isn't it? I'm late somewhere and I miss all the fun. Except this time it really honestly wasn't my fault. I was ready a good hour ahead of time. It wasn't my fault that Mouse ran off with my _jo_ staff, or that Julia lost her necklace and required me to look for it with her, like I'd even know where it was, or that Dad called as I was heading out the door to ask where Mom was, something else I didn't know. Julia took the phone away from me and told me to go or I'd be late, so I did.

The El was running on time for once, so I managed to get where I was going only a minute or so behind, and I wasn't the only one coming in after the arranged time. Simon Allende, a good friend of mine and fellow Warden-in-training, popped out of a cab right when I turned onto the street, checking addresses.

He called my name and waved at me, and I ran over to give him a hug. Simon is probably my best friend outside my sister and her boyfriend, and it's ridiculous when you think about it that I've only known him half a year. Mom got so fed up with the phone bill that first month that I was reduced to begging Dad for permission to walk through the Nevernever to Ohio. It didn't work (it never does) but Simon is fortunately not burdened with live-in parents and therefore can come and see me any time he pleases. When he's not working, anyway. He'd never met my family, though he'd seen my father from a distance, but then it's hard to be involved in the White Council and _not_ have heard of Harry Dresden.

Greetings done, I asked, "Is this the right place?" and gestured at the martial arts dojo we stood in front of with my staff. The duffel bag with my aikido uniform and magical paraphernalia slid down my arm and caught in the crook of my elbow before I could hitch it back up on my shoulder.

Simon took it off me (a move that would have earned anyone else bruised ribs for misplaced chivalry, but Simon does that to everyone) and nodded. "I think so. I hope so. We're already late and I don't want to get glared at."

"He won't glare at us," I said, "because we're not the last. Trevor Pertwee just turned the corner. Quick, get inside, I don't want to talk to him."

He made a face. "Neither do I. Go on, hold the door for me, I'm carrying shit."

"_My_ shit," I said, but held the door.

Simon hustled in, and I followed him, biting my lip. I really didn't know if Morgan would glare at us or not; we _were_ late for an exam, after all, and late Wardens cost lives. Even if this was a rather different exam for me than it was for anyone else in the room.

That still confused me. I'd had a lesson with Morgan earlier this week, which was when I'd first heard about the exam, and he'd told me that it wasn't going to be a test of my physical defenses, but rather my mental ones. "You show your feelings on your face," he'd said. "Any opponent could read you like a book. I want you to work on that this week, and at this exam you'll have a slightly different purpose. If you can keep a straight face the whole time, you pass. If not, we'll talk."

So I was supposed to keep from betraying my emotions during this exam. Okay. That wouldn't be _that_ hard. Even if someone made a particularly stupid mistake, I wouldn't laugh at them. In a dojo, that invites painful correction, and ridicule as soon as you make a mistake of your own. They don't kid around in dojos. This one wasn't for aikido, my discipline, but that didn't make it any less strict.

I shook my head, collected my thoughts, and realized that Simon was standing waiting for me, just inside the second door. "You coming, Mags?" he asked, holding it open, my duffel on his other shoulder.

"Yeah," I said. "Sorry. Woolgathering." I walked in, took my duffel back, looked around the dojo's main room and just about fell on my ass with surprise.

Taking it one detail at a time, the dojo was fairly standard for American ones. One single large room with wooden floors, white-painted walls and calligraphed scrolls hanging between the windows. Lots of light, lots of space, and mirrors along one wall. This one had a few practice weapons lining the walls, a loft with the _sensei_'s office in it, and changing rooms under the loft. Thirteen men and women between the ages of twenty-three and forty-six milled around by the changing rooms, all in loose, comfortable clothing, and one or two meditating rather than chatting. My fellow trainees. I was the youngest (and certainly the shortest) at twenty; Simon, twenty-nine, was somewhere in the middle. That, however, was not the startling part.

Commander Donald Morgan stood at the other end of the room in the combat camouflage he preferred. That wasn't the startling part either. He was responsible for us and he'd arranged this little exam. He was also watching me closely, but I knew he was just trying to assess my part of this little game.

No, what _shocked_ me was that standing next to him, in wraparound jacket and _hakama,_ her hands folded over the top of a _jo_ staff twin to mine and a faint smile on her face, was my mother.

No more than half a second went by in startlement. Before anyone else noticed I bowed to Morgan, letting my hair fall forward to hide my face until I got control over my expression. What in hell was my mother doing here? Okay, deep breath, all answers will come in time. For now, cover.

To that end, I elbowed Simon. "Bow, stupid," I told him. "Show respect for the dojo and your commanders."

He did as he was told, though nowhere near as gracefully as I did, if I do say so myself. 'Course, I've been practicing aikido since I was about five years old, and the bow is second nature by now. Not that I ever have a chance against my mother. She taught me, so she knows all my tells and little weaknesses. My mother can wipe the walls with anyone in my family, but then no one ever said Karrin Murphy wasn't totally badass.

Have I mentioned that I have the world's coolest mom?

Anyway. I had my expression under control by now, so when Simon and I headed back towards the changing rooms, he didn't ask me what the display at the front was all about. Instead, he asked, "So who do you think the blonde is? Surprise opponent?"

Damn Morgan, anyway. I shrugged, and lied. "No idea, but you're probably right. Maybe she's our exam or something. Some Warden we've never met?"  
Simon frowned, wrinkling up his nose the way he always did when he was thinking. "No, don't think so. There aren't that many, after all...well, you should know that."  
I did. The only reason my father ever made Warden was because they were running very, _very_ short on thugpower. "Yeah, but whoever said we know them all by sight?" I asked, pulling aside the curtain on one of the changing rooms at the back. "I'm going to change, watch my staff for me?"

"If you were anyone else I would take that as a come-on," he told me, taking my staff. "I'll guard the door, and I'll even braid your hair when we get out. I get the feeling this is not an exam where you want your hair in your face."

I blew a strand of my dark, wavy, totally unmanageable hair out of my face and rolled my eyes. "You're probably right. Thanks."  
I heard Morgan start to talk when I was halfway into my uniform and rushed through the rest of my change. As soon as I got out, Simon caught me and drew me up towards the front of the crowd, where I could see while he French-braided my hair with quick, careful fingers. This is why I love Simon. If I wasn't a lesbian I would marry him in a heartbeat. But alas, such things are not to be.

Mom was watching us, I noticed, and I groaned inwardly. Hello, interrogation. At least she already knew about Simon, and knew I was gay. I am _far_ too busy to put up with parental matchmaking.

"...second exam in arrest and defense procedures," Morgan was saying, and I dragged my attention back to him. "The difference today is that your opponent is not a wizard, but mortal. This is Captain Karrin Murphy of the Chicago Police Force. She has been kind enough to volunteer her time to play fugitive for us."

Murmurs broke out in the crowd of trainees behind us. I didn't look around, being too busy concentrating on keeping my face steady and mildly interested in case anyone looked at me, though I had a hard time doing that when I heard Trevor Pertwee, the least flexible, most arrogant fop it has ever been my displeasure to meet, say just a hair too loudly, "Well, this'll be _easy._"

I didn't lose my composure. I did, however, gain a new appreciation for my mother's poker face. She didn't react at all to Trevor, or to any of the others. 'Course, none of them knew who she was, or what she knew about wizards. It was possible not even Simon would connect "Karrin Murphy" with me or my father. It was probable several people were in for a rude shock.

...which would be why my mother was there to begin with, I realized suddenly. Some of my fellow trainees had been getting a touch too arrogant with the improvement they made in their abilities. Mom would knock them down a peg or twelve. Mom is _good_ at knocking people down pegs, but then I guess she has to be. We Dresdens tend towards arrogance at times, especially Julia and Dad.

But I digress. Rude awakenings were shortly to follow, and I got to see them, but I couldn't react beyond inwardly. Damn shame. I was sure that some of the expressions on the others' faces, naming no names (and by that I meant Trevor), would keep me giggling madly late into the night if I let them.

Morgan quelled the murmurings with a lifted eyebrow, then continued, "Your assignment today is to take Captain Murphy down. You are not to injure her, as the Senior Council has given you orders to take her alive and unharmed. You are also not to allow her to escape. Any questions?"

Predictably, Trevor stepped forward. "Are we allowed to use magic?"

"Of course you are," Morgan said. "Magic is one of the more versatile weapons in your arsenal and you shouldn't refrain from using it unless doing so would cause harm to yourself or others. Any _other_ questions?"  
The floor stayed silent, and Trevor smirked. "With your permission, Senior," he said, "I'd like to go first."  
Arrogant bastard. Until we made full Warden, none of us had any right to address Morgan as anything other than "Commander," except me, but I'd known his son since before I could toddle, and I still called him Commander in company. I could have decked Trevor for that presumption. So could several other trainees, judging from the incredulous and angry looks he was getting. Morgan only smiled ironically and gestured for Trevor to take his place on the mats.

Trevor dawdled onto the mats, made a perfunctory bow, and launched right into battle. _"Vincio,"_ he said, almost drawling, and spun his hand in a lazy circle, casting a binding spell. He turned to Morgan with a smug smile.

First and last mistake. The spell slid right off the protections Dad had all over Mom, and she didn't wait for Trevor to notice. She got him in the ribs with a solid right hook. He folded over her hand and she threw him, then stalked off the mats. "These are your trainees?" she asked Morgan, in her best contemptuous tone. I winced on reflex.

"One of them, anyway," Morgan responded. "Can anyone tell me what Pertwee did wrong?"

Trevor struggled to his feet, red in the face. "She cheated!" he gasped. "She's warded against magic!"  
"And can you say that everyone you arrest will not be?" Morgan asked, in much the same tone Mom had used. "You were the one who didn't check to see if your spell held. If you do that in the field I don't have much to say for your life expectancy. Allende. Up. Let's see if you can do better."

Trevor went red and stumbled off the mat. Simon took his place, and though he didn't manage to take Mom down, he did a much better job than Trevor did, and when he did go down he yielded with good grace.

Mom reacts much better to people like that, and she gave him a hand up and some advice. "Your left side is weak. Did you have an accident?"

Simon nodded. "Snapped a tendon in my knee two years ago, and I still don't have full strength back."

"Best work on getting it back," she said, and patted his shoulder. "Not a bad effort overall, though. Who's next?"

I went up next to last, and _almost_ took Mom down. I have no illusions about it, either; she was tired from going through fourteen Warden trainees and not quite paying attention. I think if I'd have gone last I might have gotten her. As it was, no one took her down, though I and another trainee named Jacqueline Wright came closest, and no one did as dismally as Trevor. His teacher was going to get a hell of a talking-to.

"Well," he said, when the last of us had been thrown and slapped the mat in submission. "That was less awful than I had expected."  
Several of the others looked up in hope; I kept my face blank.

"I will be the first to admit that this was not an entirely fair match," he said. "Captain Murphy has been practicing aikido for longer than any of you have been alive, and you know what they say about old age and treachery." Mom snorted at that, and rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

"However," Morgan said, and his voice suddenly sharpened. "I am disappointed in your attitudes. While most of you learned from Mr. Pertwee's dismal performance, I was not unaware of your comments before this exam began." He leaned forward. "I had assumed you had learned better than to judge by appearances from Commander Luccio's example. Clearly, you have not."  
A general sheepish look went around the room. I know, because I watched. As surreptitiously as I could, I mean. I wasn't the one being scolded yet but I definitely still could be.

Morgan pinned every last one of the trainees with a withering glare, including me (for good measure, I guess, unless I'd really messed up and didn't know it), then waved his hand dismissively. "Go away and report back to your teachers. Rest assured I shall be having a word with them."  
I winced in shared pain. The wizards the White Council chooses to be teachers can be absolutely terrifying when they feel their students have not learned the lesson properly, mostly because they know what awaits said students if they _don't_ learn as they should. Especially anything involving attitudes. My fellow trainees were going to have a hard time, especially Trevor.

Call me heartless, but I found it difficult to care about Trevor.

"Margaret," Morgan called, over the noise and shuffle of students leaving. "A word, please."

I shrugged an assent and went to change. I'd intended to stay anyway and cadge a ride home off Mom before she went to work. I'm not broke, but I'm also not well-off enough to waste money on the El if I don't have to.

When I got back out, the others had all gone and Mom was eyeing me with a grin on her face. "Well, Mags?" she asked. "You looked happy when I threw the first kid."

"A display of grace and artistry I was privileged to witness," I said, padding up towards her and Morgan. "Also, he's obnoxious."

Mom wiped her face with a towel and nodded. "He deserved to get taken down a peg. Nicely done, by the by. I was watching you when you came in, and I don't think anyone else noticed you recognized me."

"You did?" Simon said unexpectedly, from behind me. I spun on my heel, startled.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "The bathroom. I wanted to give you moral support through the talking-to. You recognize her?"

My mother arrived at my shoulder without making a noise. So much for my five-one lie; in stocking feet we were exactly the same height. "Introduce me?" she asked.

I shrugged, and resigned myself to an unorthodox meeting. "Might as well. You were going to meet him shortly anyway. Simon, this is my mother, Karrin Murphy. Mom, Simon Allende."

"Ma'am," Simon said, and belatedly came to attention.

"Ah." Mom eyed him sharply. "So you're the one we spent three hundred dollars in long distance phone calls on."

I blushed. "Mom!"

"Ladies," Morgan said, barely suppressing a grin. Bastard. "You did very well, Margaret, though you did slip a bit at the beginning. You covered nicely, though."

"Thanks," I said, having long since given up on getting him to call me by anything other than my full name. "Mom, _please_ don't do that in front of my commander."

Mom looked mildly offended. "I am your mother. It's my job to embarrass you."  
Simon coughed into his fist, looking seriously amused. Bastard number two.

"Margaret," Morgan said mildly. "I am trying to give you a debriefing. If you would please pay attention."

"Right, sorry." I about-faced and stood at attention. I know, I know, wiseassery, but I'm a _Dresden_. If wiseassery got people killed Dad would have been dead long before I was ever born.

Morgan rolled his eyes. He's used to this from us. "As I was saying. You did very well overall. A vast improvement from last week. I did catch you smirking at Mr. Pertwee's regrettable actions, and while that reaction is understandable I expect you to keep such feelings hidden in the future. Wardens must present a united front at all times."

"Yes, sir," I said, as deferentially as I could. I really do look up to Morgan. Regardless of his history with my father, he's always treated me with respect and consideration. I intend to deserve said respect and consideration. If there's one thing I _don't_ want, it's Dad's history with the Council.

He gave me a smile, and I knew I wasn't completely in the suds. "I agree that Mr. Pertwee has a bit of a superiority complex. But he will be your colleague and he will be a good one. At least try to treat him as such."

I nodded again. "Yes sir."

"Don't look so downcast, Margaret. You did very well. I'll see you at next week's lesson." He patted me on the head, one of about two people who can get away with that without losing a hand, then turned to pick up his own things. I went back to my mother.

I'd been intending to rescue Simon, but it didn't seem to be necessary. He was standing respectfully back so Mom could see his face without craning her neck, and avoiding her gaze no more than someone who wanted to avoid a soulgaze would. Mom, in turn, was laughing and shaking her head.

"I swear, it's one hundred percent true," Simon was saying, as I came up to them. "And I will never involve Maggie in any such thing, no matter how amusing it might turn out to be."  
"What?" I said. "You'll never involve me in what? You suck and I hate you."

Mom grinned unexpectedly. "Oh, by all means, involve Maggie. Just don't let me find out about it. Are you finished?"

I nodded, and leaned my head on Simon's arm. "I am duly chastised. And praised, I think."

"You think?" Simon adjusted his stance so his arm was a little more level. See why he's my friend?

"I don't know," I said, thoughtfully. "This praise thing is new. It confuses and frightens me."

Mom snorted. "Oh, please. You think I didn't hear your father praising every single tiny thing you ever did?"  
"I was five," I said, with as much dignity I could possibly muster. "Plus, it's Daddy's job to spoil his little girls rotten."

"How unfortunately right you are." She stretched, and added, "I think I'm going to hit the road. I'm still due in to work this afternoon."

"Can I hitch a ride home?" I asked.

"Of course," Mom said, then crooked a finger at Simon. "You come too. My husband will want to meet you, and so will Julia."

I groaned. When I'd thought about introducing Simon to my family, my sister had not entered the mental picture, and for fairly good reasons. My mother as usual read my mind and grinned at me. "Forgot about Julia, did you?"

"I didn't forget," I said. "I'm in denial. Besides, Arthur will kill him if she tries anything."  
"Shouldn't that be if I try anything?" Simon wondered aloud.

I shook my head. "No. Trust me. If _she_ tries anything. Come on. You're in the suds now, so you might as well get clean."


End file.
